


oh, these silly rainy days

by lunapark



Series: Easiest When I'm With You [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Genderswap, Girl!Merlin, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6793072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunapark/pseuds/lunapark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur pretends he doesn't care about his girlfriend half as much as he really does. Unfortunately for him, Merlin isn't fooled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, these silly rainy days

**Author's Note:**

> This is shameless porn (and fluff). Mostly, it was an excuse to write bossy girl!Merlin ~~and Arthur going down on his girlfriend~~. I wish I could say I was sorry. ;)

**•••**

 

Arthur is in the middle of outlining his bioethics paper when his mobile buzzes, the lock screen lighting up with a text message notification. He thinks about ignoring it—he's put off this paper long enough and would prefer not to spend the weekend writing it—before it occurs to him that it might be from Merlin, who he hasn't seen for the last few days because of exams. ("Don't miss me too much, turniphead," she had yelled over her shoulder, blowing him a goodbye kiss. Arthur had done a decent job of not staring after her like a lovestruck buffoon.) He reaches for his phone and is a little disappointed to see the text is from Gwen. Not that he misses Merlin or anything.

Definitely nothing like that.

_hey, have you seen Merls today?_

_No. Probably working her shift at the library_. He hesitates just a second before tacking on a  _Why?_ , concerned something is wrong.

_she was running late to her morning exam and forgot her umbrella :(_

Arthur gets up from his desk and lifts one of the blinds, peering out the window. The rain is taking a brief reprieve, but it's been pouring all afternoon, the sidewalks and roads wet and slippery. He cranes his head and glances up at the sky, the clouds dark, foreboding, looking ready to burst again at any second. The thought of Merlin walking home in the heavy rain, alone and with no umbrella, makes him forget all about his unwritten paper and the fact that it's worth over half his grade.

Arthur grabs his hoodie off the back of his chair, texts Gwen back,  _I'll take care of it_ , and is on his way.

**•••**

Arthur finds Merlin at the library. Napping.

 _Typical Merlin_ , he thinks.

Arthur actually snorts loud enough that a table of students bristle and one glares up at him. Arthur ignores them and walks up to the librarian's desk, where Merlin currently has her head down, face buried in her arms, sound asleep if the steady rise and fall of her shoulders is anything to go by. Arthur just stands there for a few seconds and watches her, lips twitching—out of annoyance, he tells himself, not fondness.

They have been together officially ( _officially_  because Merlin hated putting labels on things and "Why is it so necessary for people to refer to me as your  _girlfriend_  when they know we're mutually exclusive? That's such a stupid term anyway. Girl _friend_? Like who came up with that? Since when do  _girls_  who are  _friends_  deep throat their boy  _friends_ —" "Shut  _up_ , Merlin!") for the better part of eighteen months, and it still ceases to amaze Arthur just how ridiculous this little ride has been. It feels like just yesterday that he had stood in this very same spot and met Merlin for the first time. Well, not so much  _met_  as he had offended—he'd had a paper due the next day, but the book he needed had been loaned out, which Arthur had decided to blame the library for rather than admitting it was his fault for procrastinating; he knew it was a dick move, but he hadn't been expecting the student librarian to actually call him out on it, but she had, surprising him and everyone else by accusing him of being a "privileged and entitled git with an ego as big as his head." 

It had taken a week for Arthur to get his head out of his arse and apologize to her. Two weeks to realize he was smitten. Then another month before she finally agreed to go out with him, but only on her terms, which meant he wasn't allowed to pay for her dinner and "If you expect me to kiss you, you had better brush all those gross bits of steak out of your teeth."

Not your average love story. 

Arthur touches her hair with more gentleness than he would care to admit, trying not to spook her. When Merlin begins to stir, mumbling and snuffling, Arthur clears his throat and schools his expression into something less openly besotted.

"Sleeping on the job?" he asks casually. "Very professional, Merlin."

"Ar'fur?" Merlin mumbles, blinking up at him sleepily. She has her hair tied back in place messily, but most of it's come undone, a few curly strands sticking to her cheeks and lips. "S'not my dorm..." she adds, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

"You're at the library," Arthur tells her. "Doing a brilliant job of sleeping through your entire shift, might I add."

"Shut up," Merlin grumbles, sounding more awake now. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and sits up. The desk has left an imprint on her forehead that Arthur decidedly does not find adorable.

"What are you doing here?" she asks curiously. She peers up at him with those owlish gray-blue eyes that had done Arthur in the first time. "You have a term paper to write."

"You've probably been too busy sleeping to notice, but it's pouring outside. Gwen texted me and said you forgot your umbrella." It's only then that Arthur notices her clothes—jean overalls that are about two sizes too big with only a light blue tank top underneath. "Looks like you forgot your sweater too."

Arthur expects a scowl or a glare, so when Merlin gifts him with a soft, uncharacteristically shy smile, he is left staring at her in surprise, his heart doing embarrassing flip flops in his chest.

"You were worried about me," she says knowingly.

"Don't sound so pleased," Arthur huffs, cheeks flaming. "We're dating. I have to care about you at least a little bit."

Merlin shoots him a toothy grin, fluttering her eyelashes at him mockingly before she grabs him by the front of his sweatshirt and yanks him down. This close, Arthur can smell the organic shampoo Merlin uses to wash her hair, the kind that smells like oranges and almond oil. Arthur has fallen asleep with his nose pressed into her hair more times than he can count, the smell lulling him into an easy slumber. 

Merlin stamps a kiss to his cheek, her lips dry and a little chapped. "Oh, you complete and utter berck," she sighs, sounding exasperated, but her eyes twinkle like stars in the night sky.

Arthur flushes darker.

**•••**

It takes a lot of whispered arguing ("Will you just take my sweatshirt?" "Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I need to be coddled, Pendragon!" "You have the immune system of a four month old baby and you're even more annoying when you're sick, Merlin. Now take the damn thing. Please." " _Fine_.") before Merlin finally relents and grudgingly puts on Arthur's hoodie, fussing as she zips it up. The hoodie is way too big on her, comically so for someone as short as she is, ending almost mid-thigh and covering her hands and arms. Arthur bites back a laugh that Merlin notices anyway, and she reaches up, swatting him across the head with one of the flappy sleeves. 

Arthur chuckles and kisses her forehead, pulls the hood up over her head. "You're cute when you're upset," he teases, opening the umbrella and holding it up high over their heads as they step outside. The raindrops are falling even harder now, pattering loudly on the concrete, the air icy and heavy around them. Arthur shivers, his toes growing cold in his worn trainers. Merlin rolls her eyes, but tucks herself into his side, holding onto his arm and rubbing warmth into him. 

"I don't know why I'm even dating you," she quips.

"The words 'charming,' 'fit,' and 'great in the sack' come to mind."

"Right," Merlin replies dryly. "As do 'supercilious,' 'pretentious,' and 'full of yourself.'"

"And yet you still get jealous every time Sophia asks me to tutor her."

"Not jealous," Merlin clarifies, eyes cutting across to him sharply. Not very convincing. "I'm looking out for you, Arthur. She's a bloody harpy who's obsessed with your fat wallet, posh arse, and pretty face."

Arthur smiles at her sunnily, flashing a row of teeth that are only slightly crooked. "You think I'm pretty?" he asks, which earns him a hard pinch on the arm and an annoyed, "Just shut up and keep walking."

The wind picks up and slows them down, almost causing the umbrella to go flying out of Arthur's hand. He squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught, the rain dripping down his arm and completely soaking through one side of his jeans and t-shirt. Merlin's apparently resorted to using him as a shield, her grip tight on his arm and face turned slightly into his chest, which admittedly feels very nice. Arthur slits his eyes open and tries to navigate them that way.

But when he steers them to the left, in the direction of her dorm, Merlin curls her fingers in his shirt, stopping him. "Let's go back to yours," she shouts over a loud gust of wind. Her hair is in disarray, sticking out from beneath the hood, frizzy and wet, strands of it curling over the sharp cut of her cheekbones. 

"You're sure?"

"Yeah." She glances over at him, lips quirked as though she knows something that he doesn't, a grand secret. "It's closer," she insists, but the impish smile she gives him has his stomach doing somersaults.

**•••**

By the time they arrive at his flat, Arthur's hair is wet and matted to his forehead, his teeth chattering. Merlin holds the umbrella as he fishes through the back pocket of his jeans for his keys. His hands are slippery and he drops the keys twice before he manages to get the door open, blinking the rain out of his eyes to glare at Merlin, who's laughing at him, raindrops clinging to her eyelashes. He steps inside and ignores the offhand comment Merlin makes about him being grumpy. 

"You're no fun," she says, her lilting laughter carrying over the sounds of the rain. 

Merlin shakes the umbrella dry before shutting it and follows Arthur inside, switching on the lights to his living room. Arthur finishes wiping his face on his shirt and looks over at Merlin. Her cheeks are tinged red from the cold, almost the same color as his sweatshirt. She pulls off the hood and unties her hair, combing her fingers through the damp tangles. When she catches him staring, she raises her eyebrows—naturally thick and full, because she's always been averse to getting them done—and he glances away, embarrassed.

Merlin sighs and unzips the hoodie. "There you go doing that thing again."

Arthur toes off his trainers, then pulls off his wet socks, tossing them aside to dry. "What thing?"

"That... _thing_." She wiggles her finger in his general direction. "That thing you do with your jaw when you're being a crankypants. When you clench it and a muscle starts ticking and you look all brooding—a _ha_ , just like that!"

"I am not a  _crankypants_ , Merlin," he retorts, raising his voice just a little, hands on his hips. "Plus, you just made that word up!"

Merlin kicks off her beat-up high tops—unsurprisingly, her socks don't match. "Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist," Merlin says, rolling her eyes as she walks the short distance over to him. She stops in front of him and stands on her tiptoes, winds her arms around his neck. "I'm only teasing, you big grump. Honestly, you're so easily offended—and you call your  _sister_  the dramatic one."

Arthur pouts down at her and keeps his hands on his hips, stubborn.

Merlin cocks her head and  _tsk_ s _._ "You're such a spoilt child," she accuses, but her lips twitch, an aborted attempt at a smile. "Am I going to have to kiss that ridiculous pout off your face?"

Arthur shrugs, pretending not to care. "Worth a shot."

Naturally, Merlin sees right through him. She tugs him down unceremoniously and lets their lips hover just a breath apart, her eyes locked with his, a clear challenge. "Prince of Prats," she breathes, and Arthur feels the heat of if on his lips. Somehow his hands have already come down to settle on her hips. "If you missed me so much, all you had to do was say so."

Arthur has no snarky comeback for that one, but it doesn't matter, because suddenly Merlin is kissing him and it feels like a breath of fresh air, a long awaited treat. It's been  _days_  since he last kissed this lovely full mouth of hers—like, properly kissed, not those stupid little pecks, those didn't count—and felt her lips move wetly over his own, her long lashes flutter against his cheek, her fingers slide through the hair at his nape. Arthur kisses the curves of her mouth, lets Merlin suck and nibble on his bottom lip, give it a terse little bite as though it's payback for the pout, then soothe it with her warm tongue. He draws her closer to his body, flush against him with his arms encircling her narrow waist, and she seems to like that, her foot hooking around his ankle and pushing their lower bodies more firmly together. His cock twitches, taking an immediate interest.

"My, uh, my clothes are water-logged," Arthur points out with some difficulty as Merlin starts sucking kisses to his jawline—she's always had a fascination with his jaw, something Arthur has never understood but isn't complaining about either. "You'll get wet."

He feels her answering smile bloom against his skin, satisfied and smug, because after all this time she knows exactly the kind of disastrous effect she has on him. Her nose drags down the underside of his jaw to the hollow of his throat, where his skin is still damp and chilled from the rain. She presses her lips there, breathes hotly on his skin.

"I don't mind getting a little  _wet_ , Arthur," she says, voice gone low. 

When Merlin looks up at him, her gaze is light, teasing, the corner of her mouth hitched up in a smirk—cheeky, but never coy. It's the same pushy, crass attitude bordering on outright disrespect that had drawn Arthur in the first time. Before her, Arthur had never dated a girl who didn't bat her eyelashes at him or giggle at all his jokes—and then he'd met Merlin, with her carefree laughter and squinty smiles, larger than average ears and sun-freckled nose, always stumbling around like a baby bird flapping its wings for the first time; she was kind (when she wanted to be) and caring, generous to a fault, and a little bit endearing in her own ridiculous way. 

Arthur had never looked back.

Merlin had been in all of two relationships before they had gotten together, and to this day—right now, even, as she dimples and looks up at him through her dark lashes, wet and clumped together from the rain—he still can't fathom how anyone would be daft enough to give her up. 

_Their loss_. 

He forces all those distracting emotions back down, somewhere deep in his chest where he can linger on them later, while he watches Merlin sleep with her face pressed into his pillow, red duvet wrapped around her pale skin and moonlight in her hair. 

Right now he thinks game  _on_ because two can play at this. He matches her smirk, skims his hand up her side to rest it against the curve of her breast, his thumb sneaking beneath the strap of her overalls to slide down her tank top, blunt nail digging into her bra. She keeps her eyes locked with his, smile fixed, but he hears the tiny, telltale hitch in her breath and grins down at her.

Arthur leans down to whisper in her ear, "What about  _very_  wet?" 

"Big words, little man," she scoffs. 

"My words aren't the only things that are  _big_."

At that, Merlin snorts loudly, unexpectedly, and shakes her head. She surprises Arthur by letting go of him and stepping out of his reach, face crinkled in irritation. Merlin shrugs off his hoodie and throws it in his face as she stalks past him in the direction of his bedroom. He stares at her dumbly, mouth hanging open like a floundering fish, until he gets the presence of mind to follow her inside.

"Do boys not realize that double entendres about their dicks are tried and unimpressive?" she asks critically.

Arthur switches on the light to better see her and frowns at the pointed look she throws his way. "It was clever!" he protests.

"Far from it," Merlin says significantly. "Not the least bit sexy either."

Arthur reaches for her with a charming smile fixed in place. "Lucky for you, the rest of me makes up for it."

"Oh, shut  _up_ , you huge insufferable prat," Merlin mutters, giving him a hard shove that catches him off-guard. Arthur stumbles back onto the bed, just managing to catch himself on his elbows before Merlin climbs into his lap eagerly, clumsily.

"'I have a big  _mouth_ ,'is what you should have said." She traces her thumb over his lips, dips the pad of it into his mouth, rubbing it over his teeth and the inside of his lip. He stares at her and bites at the soft flesh lightly. "A big,  _hungry_  mouth," she murmurs, eyes fixed on his wet lips. "You should put it to good use."

One strap of her overalls has slipped off her narrow shoulders. Arthur releases her thumb in favor of pressing his mouth to the prominent jut of her collarbone—Merlin has always been especially sensitive there, and Arthur takes full advantage of it now. He scrapes his teeth over the hard line of bone and tongues the dip, smirking against her skin when she sucks in a deep breath, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He unclasps one side of her overalls, then the other, pushing the straps of her tank top and bra out of the way to lick at the newly exposed skin, mark it with kisses and bruises because what Merlin forgot to mention is that his mouth is  _greedy_  too.

In retaliation, Merlin wriggles purposefully in his lap, the warm weight of her making heat pulse in his groin, steadily at first, then faster as she finds his cock and starts to grind down against it, rubbing back and forth over the rapidly hardening line of it deliberately. Arthur grits his teeth together and Merlin throws her head back and  _laughs_ , as though this is a competition and she's just taken the upper hand.

"What's wrong?" she taunts breathlessly. "Am I making it  _hard_  for you to think?"

Arthur kisses up her neck to her ear, takes a lobe between her teeth and bites down on it, making her gasp, then moan as he sucks on it. "Now who's making tried and unimpressive double entendres?" he husks.

Merlin laughs again, airy and mocking, and Arthur takes her mouth again to shut her up, kissing her hard and licking her mouth open. She hums into it, as pleased as ever, and rises up on her knees to let Arthur tug her overalls down and off her chest, letting them pool at her waist. His hands ruck up her tank top, then slip beneath it to skate up the bumps of her spine and unhook her bra. Arthur immediately pushes his hands under the cotton and palms her breasts, small and pert and fitting so snugly in his hands. He circles his thumbs around her slack nipples until they harden and pucker under his touch, smiling as Merlin shivers, her hips swaying restlessly. 

She tugs at his t-shirt impatiently. " _Off_ ," she demands.

Arthur chuckles and takes her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, tweaking them and making her gasp. She punches his shoulder. "Yes, milady," he says.

Merlin rolls her eyes. "Just because you have the name of some medieval storybook king doesn't mean you actually _are_ one." She bats his hands away to pull off his t-shirt before shucking off her own tank top and bra, Arthur's eyes hungrily raking over the long stretch of smooth, pale skin. "Granted, you act entitled enough to be one."

The rain picks up, pounding loudly against the window. It makes the air inside feel heavy and sultry. Arthur buries his face in her chest, kisses and licks at the moistness on her breastbone, the salt of her skin. 

"You're just upset you were named after a rickety old wizard," he teases, voice muffled.

"My mum named me after a bird!" she insists, indignant. "How many times do I have to— _oh_ ," she breathes out, because Arthur has closed his mouth around one of her breasts and is suckling on it, laving her nipple with his tongue. He cups her other breast in his hand and fondles it, squeezes and pinches the soft flesh. Merlin moans loudly, her hands clutching his hair. 

Arthur loves making her fall apart like this—besides Mithian, Merlin is the only girl he's dated who's not shy in bed, but she's noisier than Mithian ever was, the whines and curses that leave her lovely indecent mouth turning him on so much that he starts working himself against her arse. 

"Fuck," she hisses, arching into the hot seal of his mouth. "Mmm, just like that, yeah,  _God_ —"

He lets go with a wet pop and grins up at her. She looks wrecked—eyes dark, cheeks flushed, lips parted and smudged red. "You  _can_  just call me Arthur, you know." 

"Shut up," Merlin snaps. She forces Arthur's head back down and he wastes no time latching his mouth onto her other breast, worrying the smooth flesh with his lips and tongue and teeth, Merlin all the while writhing in his lap, pressing as close to him as she can get, her hips rocking into his eagerly.

At some point it must get to be too much because she pushes him away from her chest with a groan that sounds slightly pained, her nipples looking swollen and over sensitive. Arthur opens his mouth to apologize, the thought of accidentally hurting her piercing through the fog of lust, but she tilts his face up with unusually gentle hands and kisses him, her tongue slipping inside his mouth to brush with his own. Her legs are spread wide on either side of his thighs and she grinds her center against his belly, a clear invitation. Arthur angles his mouth and deepens the kiss as his hands dip inside her overalls to cup her arse, kneading the soft mounds of flesh as her hips start rolling into his more urgently.

"Your cock is so hard already," she murmurs against his lips. "I haven't even touched you properly. Look at you, Arthur, straining for me against your jeans. I drive you mad, don't I?"

The groan that Arthur lets out is low, hungry, and completely unintentional. Merlin whispers a soft, " _Yeah_ ," between their lips before she starts kissing and licking at the jut of his jaw, like a cat cleaning off its paws. Her hands roam his back, blunt fingernails dragging over his skin, and then, abruptly, moving to his chest to scrape over his nipples. 

" _F-Fuck_ ," he bites out. Before Merlin, Arthur had never realized how sensitive his nipples were; none of the girls he'd had sex with in the past had ever dared to touch him so boldly—not that he minded, of course, because the sex was still good and all, maybe a little predictable, but good nonetheless. Then Merlin had come around and flipped all those conventional norms on their heads, taking as much as she got, and Arthur realized just how fucking  _good_  it could really get. 

"Like that, do you?" Merlin asks, breath warm on his skin. That's another thing about Merlin, the dirty talk—never giggly or bashful or playful because, no, Merlin actually  _means_  it, even if it sounds like it's coming straight from a porno, sleazy and ridiculous. And Arthur loves it, gets  _off_  on it, her raspy voice doing terrible fantastic things to his cock, making it jerk helplessly where it's trapped inside his jeans. 

Arthur wants to press the heel of his palm against his cock for relief, but he can't do that because he's got a lap full of Merlin. Arthur grips her arse tighter and groans in frustration. Merlin chuckles, delighted, and presses down harder against his erection, grinding on it over and over. She runs her thumbs over his nipples and they pebble under her touch.

"Randy boy," she chastises. "Is your poor cock aching for me?"

Arthur slides one hand to her front. The angle is all wrong, but Arthur makes it work, resting his palm flat over her pubic bone and dragging his thumb down so that he can rub it over the fabric. Merlin gasps, her hips bucking into the touch furiously. Arthur presses his mouth to her sternum and smothers another groan because, God, she's  _wet_ , so fucking wet that she's  _drenched_  the cotton fabric with her juices. Arthur doesn't think he'll ever get used to this, the way Merlin's body responds to him so enthusiastically, how worked up and heated she gets.

"How about you?" Arthur asks hoarsely. He wriggles his hand down farther and outlines the soft, damp swell of her sex with his thumb. "You must be aching down here with how wet I've made you." 

"It's,  _mmm_ , called basic human physiology, prat," she rushes to say. Merlin drives her hips down against the phantom touch, greedy. "Not everything is about  _you_." The lack of adequate contact makes her groan, clearly frustrated, and Arthur smiles, kissing the center of her chest sweetly. 

"What about  _this_?" he asks in a low tone. He's moved his thumb back up and is circling it over the engorged nub at the top of her slit. Merlin keens, loudly. "Look at how swollen your clit is. It's  _throbbing_ , Merlin. Wonder how long it'd take for you to come apart if I put my mouth on it, licked it, sucked it..."

"Let's find out," Merlin rasps. Abruptly, she pushes off him and stands, getting rid of the rest of her clothes and socks. Arthur follows suit, unzipping his jeans and kicking them off, but Merlin tackles him onto the bed before he gets a chance to remove his briefs.

"No," she says fiercely, throwing one leg over his body to straddle him. She spreads her legs wide and drags her naked slit over his erection, Arthur immediately gripping her hips and letting out a filthy moan as the slickness moistens his briefs.

Merlin pushes her sweat-tangled hair off her face, smiles down at him shakily. "Leave them on. No touching yourself. You're not allowed to come until I do."

" _Tease_ ," he accuses.

Merlin smiles wider at that, showing teeth. She shifts up his body and leans down to kiss him, and Arthur tugs her down so her breasts are flush against his chest and her hair falls around him like a dark, fragrant curtain. They kiss slowly, sensually, rubbing their lips, nipping and licking at each other, and it's so out of place that it's  _absurd_  because they're both so far gone and stupid with lust, it's almost masochistic to draw it out this way. But Arthur can't bring himself to move any faster—and neither can Merlin, it seems, if the content little sounds she's making are anything to go by—so he stays kissing her, his big hands holding onto her tiny hips.

When Merlin moans quietly into his mouth, Arthur doesn't think much of it, just swallows up the noises hungrily. But then she does it again, louder this time, followed by a mumbled, "Oh  _fuck_ ," and a hard thrust of her hips. Arthur breaks away from her obscene mouth to look down between their bodies, but the sight that greets him makes him forget how to breathe. Merlin's shoved a hand between her legs and is stroking herself, pale fingers sliding in and out of her dark nest of curls, coming away wet.

Jesus _Christ_ , this woman is going to be the death of him. 

When Merlin catches Arthur's eye, she laughs softly at his dumbfounded expression. "I could use some help," she says, winking. 

Arthur grabs her wrist and brings her hand up to his lips, mouth watering in anticipation. She smears her glistening fingers over his lips, painting them with her juices, and Arthur licks the tangy-sweet taste of her off his lips before sucking her fingers into his mouth and cleaning them off with his tongue. 

"Arthur."

And it's the way she says his name, urgent and breathless, not teasing but  _needing_ , that makes something primal snap inside Arthur. He growls low in his throat and grips her thighs, hauling her up effortlessly so she is kneeling over him, his face settling between her legs.

Arthur inhales the heady scent of her arousal, strongest here, between her damp thighs and naked sex. Outside, the thunder is roaring, but Arthur can only hear the quickened sounds of Merlin's breathing, the desperate choked off noises she's making in anticipation. He stares up at the whitish-clear droplets clinging to her curls, knows that if he brushed his chin up against them, it would come away sticky and wet. Arthur uses his thumbs to peel back her lips, spreads her wide so he can look at her, take her in, and she gives a little  _ah_  at that, shifting restlessly above him. Her flesh is a deep pink-red, flushed and swollen and  _dripping_ ; when he blows hotly over her dusky opening, he watches a fresh wave of moisture emerge, leak out and coat his thumbs.

Arthur closes his eyes and reins in his desire. Fuck's sake, he is the  _luckiest_  bastard in the universe. 

"Are you just gonna stare at my cunt?" she huffs, annoyed, wiggling her hips down in invitation. "I want your  _mouth_  on me, Pendragon. Hurry up."

The intense, no nonsense tone of her voice propels him into action. Arthur lifts his head and gives her one long, slow lick from bottom to top, savoring the taste of her arousal on his tongue. Merlin sucks in a sharp breath, and Arthur makes her wait, makes her want it that much more, before he prods at her clit with the tip of his tongue. She breathes out a soft little, " _Ohh_ ," her legs visibly quivering, and Arthur hooks his hands under her knees and forces her down so Merlin is sitting on his face, his mouth open wide beneath her.

"Again," she demands, voice raw with desire.

Arthur licks at her slowly, working his tongue over her outer lips and then using it to pry apart her slippery inner ones, moaning at the warm splash of fluid on his tongue. Merlin's got her fingers in his hair, combing back and forth, scratching at his scalp, and she's babbling, "Yes, Arthur, fuck, just like that, give it to me, come  _on_ , I know how much you like it..."

And that's where she's wrong: Arthur doesn't just like it, he  _loves_  it—because she is everywhere, her sharp taste coating his tastebuds, her musky smell thick in his nostrils, her weight over his shoulders, making pleasure zigzag down his cock even as it remains dutifully untouched. He kisses her slit like he would her mouth, sucks the fluid leaking from her and smacks his lips noisily, knowing from experience what it does to her. He's rewarded with a loud curse and Merlin's fingers tightening in his hair.

"God, you hungry,  _greedy_  boy. You could make a meal out of my cunt, couldn't you?" She spreads her legs wider, pushing into his eager mouth with sharp little jerks that have him leaking precome in his briefs. "You  _want_  that, don't you?"

Arthur presses the flat of his tongue to her clit and holds it there. Merlin goes still too, as though unwilling to give in before he does, but with each passing second Arthur feels the throbbing against his tongue intensify, pounding alongside the thunder. He reaches up with one hand to palm her breast, swiping his fingers over her nipple, and it sends a jolt through her that Arthur feels as much as she does. Merlin grinds down on his face suddenly and Arthur takes it as his cue to go to work, working her clit her with short, hard little flicks of his tongue that make her shout out praises and curses with his name mixed in somewhere.

He wriggles one finger against her opening, dipping just the tip of it in and stroking softly, carefully. Merlin has never liked being fingered, had never even tried penetrative sex before Arthur; when they do it now, it's usually with Merlin on top, riding him slowly until she comes, then faster and harder until Arthur follows. But she's warmed up to the idea just a little, enough to where she's starting to find it more pleasurable than not to have Arthur's fingers inside her to clench down on; and as much as Arthur wants to slide his tongue inside her cunt and fuck her that way, show her how good he could make it, he doesn't push her, not even now.

Merlin fists her hand in his hair so tightly it makes his eyes water. She rises up on her knees, his finger slipping out of her, and starts rolling her hips, meeting each purposeful stroke of his tongue. She uses the hand in his hair to tilt his head this way, then that, and when she looks down at him, her eyes are wild and desperate, ravenous.

"Faster," she urges, pleading with him now, sounding delirious. "Faster, Arthur, I know you can do better than this, more,  _more_..."

Arthur holds onto her bony hips as she rides his face, sucking messy kisses to her slit, his face damp and sticky. She angles her hips up higher and starts rubbing her clit against the tip of his nose, effectively making him into her fucktoy, her  _plaything_ , and it shouldn't turn him on to be used like this, like some vibrator or dildo made solely to pleasure her, but it  _does_ , and Arthur thrusts his hips up into thin air helplessly, feet sliding along the cool sheets. 

Merlin comes with a gasp that ends on a shout, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back, her hand holding him in place, keeping his mouth where she needs it the most. Arthur stays licking and sucking at her, wringing out every last bit of her orgasm. He feels her pulsing against his tongue and knows that if he was inside her, she would be grasping hungrily at his cock over and over again. 

When Merlin pushes his face away at last, too sensitive for more, she is trembling like the last leaf of autumn in a strong winter wind. She shifts off his face, her lips making a sticky sound as they peel apart, and lets go of his hair. She combs her fingers through the sweat-dampened strands in a useless attempt to smooth them down that makes Arthur crack a smile anyway, his skin feeling sticky-tight. Merlin lies down beside him, but hooks her leg over his thigh and presses her body close, Arthur feeling the sweat and dampness between her thighs on his skin. Her hand trails down his sweaty chest to his cock, which she grasps firmly and squeezes.

"Your turn," she whispers, kissing his neck.

Merlin slips her hand inside his briefs and takes the hot, thick length of him in her hand. She's done this enough times to know exactly what he likes and, by some small mercy, forgoes teasing him and gets straight to work jerking him off. He thrusts into the tight circle of her fist, one hand twisted in the sheets and the other curled around Merlin's body. She nibbles at his jaw and mutters filthy promises into his ear, rocking herself against his thigh. 

Arthur is already so worked up that it doesn't take long for him to come, just a few twists of her wrist and a thumb rubbing over his oversensitive head. She gives a small shudder and stills when he comes all over her hand, breathing his name quietly. The realization that she's orgasmed a second time, just from getting him off, causes Arthur to let out a low moan, and he turns his head to kiss her fiercely, desperately.

Merlin licks into his mouth, moaning softly, tasting herself—and Arthur's mind gets stuck on that because she's  _tasting_  herself. They kiss quietly for a few minutes until Merlin draws away, her face scrunched up as though she's just smelled something unpleasant. 

"My hand is a mess, all thanks to you," she accuses, nose wrinkled.

"My  _face_  is a mess, all thanks to you," he shoots back, and surprisingly, she colors at that, a faint red dusting her cheeks.

"Nothing worse than all those synthetic chemicals you put on your face every night for your spots," she recovers.

"Not all of us were born with— Hey, what are you—?  _Merlin_!" Arthur yelps, voice going embarrassingly high, because Merlin's just taken her hand covered with his drying come and smeared it all over his cheeks.

Merlin giggles gleefully. "They say come is an all-natural remedy for spots."

"I'll show  _you_  an all-natural remedy," Arthur mutters, which doesn't really make sense, but—whatever. He picks her up off the bed and hoists her over his shoulder, carrying her to the bathroom that way.

"You pigheaded  _oaf_!" Merlin cries, and slaps his back. Arthur rolls his eyes. "Unfair use of brute strength! Put me down! Put me  _down_! Put me—"

Arthur puts her down in the shower, pulls off his soiled briefs, and follows her inside. She stands beneath the warm spray, arms folded over her chest petulantly, leaving Arthur no choice but to tickle her until she finally cracks a grudging smile. Merlin slaps his hands away before she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him like that, with water running down their lips.

The shower takes twice as long as it should, mostly because they keep stopping to throw water and suds at each other, and at one point Merlin gives Arthur a shampoo mohawk ("It's called a  _poo hawk_ , you uncultured swine." "That sounds stupid and disgusting, Merlin.") and almost slips and falls over from laughing too hard. 

Once they finish, Merlin wraps herself in a soft towel and sits on the counter as Arthur fishes through his closet to give her something to wear. He offers her his old Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers with an adjustable waistband. She slips on the t-shirt and Arthur tries not to stare at the way her nipples peak as the white cotton drags over them. Merlin throws the boxers aside and tugs Arthur between her legs, rivulets of water running down her neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of the oversized shirt.

"I can do without the boxers," she says, wearing a cheshire cat grin. "Makes for easy access."

Then she shoves him away and hops off the countertop, Arthur watching her go, dazed and not quite able to keep the smile off his face.

When Arthur pads back into the bedroom, half-dressed and yawning, he notices that the storm has finally let up, leaving behind only a faint drizzle in its wake. He remembers the essay outline he never finished and knows it will have to wait until tomorrow.

Merlin has turned off the lights and is curled up on his bed, buried beneath a large blanket she must've pulled out of the closet. He thinks she's asleep, but when he settles into bed beside her, Merlin opens her eyes and shuffles closer to him, mumbling something about being cold and tucking herself snug into his side.

"So," Arthur says a while later, rubbing her shoulder absently. "I, er, was thinking."

Merlin slits her eyes and looks up at him, lips curved in a wry smile. "You? Thinking? Don't hurt yourself."

When Arthur doesn't snark back, Merlin props her head up on her hand, elbow on Arthur's pillow, and peers down at him. "What is it?" She frowns and touches the crease between his brows with her free hand. "Arthur?" she asks softly.

There are a dozen ways he could ask her, all of them too serious or not serious enough. "Move in with me," he blurts out without thinking.

Oh. Well. That would do.

Merlin blinks and Arthur watches the emotions flit across her face like a film in slow motion—confusion, understanding, surprise, disbelief, and last of all,  _wonder_. 

"You... You want me to move in with you?" she asks slowly.

"Don't tell me you're having trouble hearing me with those abominable ears," he huffs.

Merlin ignores him. "What brought all this about?" she asks instead. She hasn't said  _yes_ , but she hasn't said  _no_ yet, either.

Arthur clears his throat. "Well, it recently occurred to me that I, uh, graduate next term," his gaze cuts to Merlin, who is staring at him intently, waiting, "so I won't be living on campus anymore. Means we won't be seeing each other as often as we do now." 

"Uh- _huh_."

Arthur sighs, cheeks flaming in both embarrassment and irritation, because of  _course_  Merlin wouldn't make this easy for him. "And it kind of sucks— Alright, it  _really_  sucks, is that what you want to hear? Because I'm not used to  _not_  seeing you every day, Merlin. We spent a few days apart while you were studying for exams and I—well, fine, I admit it, I was a pathetic wreck, totally miserable, and—"

Merlin cuts him off with a kiss that leaves him breathless, her lips breaking into a smile against his. 

"You  _are_  pathetic," she murmurs, "pathetic and emotionally constipated."

"I... Huh?" he asks stupidly.

"Why can't you just admit that you missed me?"

"I did, just a bit—"

" _Arthur_."

"Okay, I missed you  _quite_  a bit." He rolls onto his side to face her, Merlin going cross-eyed at his sudden close proximity. It makes Arthur's heart race.

"I like this," he goes on, "not just the sex, although that's very good too, but everything else—like kissing you goodnight after I brush the meat out of my teeth and waking up in the mornings with you half on top of me, even arguing about stupid things like whether tomatoes are fruits or vegetables—for the record, they're vegetables—and if toilet paper should go under or over. I'd take all of that, every day. I'd  _like_  that every day."

"Yes."

Arthur blinks. "What?"

"I said  _yes_ , prat," Merlin says, flicking his nose. "I know you're a bit slow, but try to keep up, will you? 'Yes,' as in, 'I'll move in with you.'"

"Oh," Arthur says. " _Oh_." Relief turns his mind to mush. "That's, um..."

Merlin rests a hand on his cheek and kisses him, brief but tender. "Idiot," she says fondly. "My huge, impossible  _idiot_."

Arthur ignores the pitter-pattering of his own heart, louder than the rain. The thought of having this every day makes him feel giddy and reckless. "Manners, Merlin. It would do you well to learn some." He slides his hand to her bare arse and gives it a punishing squeeze. Merlin had been right—easy access indeed. "You cheeky thing."

Merlin tries to squirm away from him, but he holds her close. "You love it," she insists. Face smushed into the pillow, Merlin laughs, her eyes turning into little half-moon crescents, wide grin splitting her face in two.

Arthur smiles at her. "Yeah. I suppose I do."

 

**•••**


End file.
